Idk idk idk idk what to say to you
Theres so much I could say, but how much time?
I could tell you I love you, but what’s the use
Love doesn’t always seem to erase lines
Im not overwhelmed
Nor distraught by this
I just need some time to think through this
Don’t let me do this
If there’s something you would like to say then I recommend now before I reach outer space
The connections bad and I’m starting to run out of space
If you know what I know then reassure me that its okay
We’re okay
I can’t keep doing this to you
You might reach out
You might say it back
I know I know I know
But what happened to think fast
Im running out of space
Time doesn’t exist
We may not exist
What if we don’t exist
Pull me back
I wanna come down from here
Can we come down from here
Its making me delusional
Am I really
Idk idk idk maybe its the air thinning
I can’t breathe
I can’t
I
Idk idk idk
Idk
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from writers in Poets and other communities.
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson2 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.